


You Redeem Me

by tryslora



Series: The Gloryverse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Job Friday, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Closeted Character, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not as if Percy has any right to Marcus. Percy is married, after all. And now Marcus is married as well, and to all appearances is happy with his bride. And Percy has to wonder, where does that leave him with the man who said he owns Percy’s orgasms?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Redeem Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teas_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teas_me/gifts).



> This story is written for the Blow Job Friday challenge at torino10154's livejournal. Teas_me requested another entry into the Gloryverse and I was thrilled to comply. While this story is part of a series, it can be read on its own without needing to know any of the other stories. Many many thanks to venivincere for the beta!

“It was a beautiful wedding.” 

Percy shifts his stance as Oliver speaks, hands hanging awkwardly by his sides. He’s dressed far too well to simply shove his hands in the pockets hidden in his robes, but he has to fight the instinct to draw them up, cross them over his chest as if he can keep his heart trapped inside when it threatens to beat its way free. He makes a noise, figuring Oliver will take it as assent.

Of course, Oliver is a former Gryffindor, which means he can’t let well enough alone. “Everything all right, there?” Oliver nudges him, and Percy mutters nonsense under his breath in response.

Because of course everything’s all right. Everything has to be fine. There’s no other way it could be.

“We ought to go offer our felicitations to your partner.” Oliver’s tone is light, but Percy gives him a look because that was far too intuitively said. As if Oliver knows there is something more, something other what Percy says. Because Percy says nothing about Marcus. He rarely speaks of working with him, rarely offers an opinion other than the fact that Marcus Flint is a brutish oaf who has been thrust upon Percy like an irritating blight upon his career.

He pastes on a thin smile. “He’s not my partner.”

“He’s the only Hit Wizard you accept when you need help for your special projects,” Oliver says dryly. “He’s your partner, or as good as. Do you spend time together outside of the jobs?”

_Yes_. “Hardly,” Percy says, tones clipped and sharp. “We’ve sparred; he insists that I learn to fight so that I can take care of myself should he not be available, or if he were indisposed.”

“So he gives a shit.” Oliver grins. “Go on, offer your congratulations. You were invited, Percy. You were told to bring a guest, and you brought me, not Audrey. So go, indulge in what time you can get.”

Oliver definitelyknows and that sends a shiver down Percy’s spine, that moment of being caught. He can’t be caught, this can’t be acknowledged outside of moments in his office, outside of times in dark spaces or rented rooms. He tries to find words to respond and fails, a flush rising to stain his pale skin, and Oliver’s grin turns knowing.

“I’m not going to tell, Percy. You and me, we’re the only ones of our sort here.” Oliver gestures between the two of them. “Everyone else is old blood, possibly purists during the war, and here we are. Once upon a time Gryffindors. And you’re the one with the connection to the happy couple.”

Percy’s gaze drifts across the room, seeking out where Marcus towers over the elderly couple speaking to him and his new bride. Violet Pucey, younger sister to Adrian Pucey. She’s not delicate, like Audrey. She looks as if she could carry a sack of potatoes around a farm, then churn the butter and chase three children at the same time.

She also has one hand resting against her belly in a familiar stance that Percy knows well. His gaze narrows.

“I never would’ve thought it of Flint,” Oliver murmurs, and Percy’s had enough.

“Stay, go, dance. Do whatever you wish to do, with whomever you happen to choose as a partner for the night,” he says tightly. “You are right, I should offer my felicitations, but I do believe I feel an ailment coming on, and I shall leave when I’m done.”

“You’re an idiot,” Oliver says quietly, and Percy has to agree that he’s probably right.

He threads through the crowd, pausing politely to talk to Captain Heregard and his wife Zylda. When he glances up, Violet and Adrian are deep in discussion with Marcus’s younger sister, Alia, but the man himself is nowhere to be seen.

Fine, it’s no matter. That simply makes it easier for Percy to make his way to the cloak room and collect his things, shrugging into his cloak and smoothing it over his robes. He will be gone in no time, and Marcus Flint will never know— “Bloody _hell_.” 

The words escape on a gasp as his arm is gripped tightly, fingers biting into his skin as he’s yanked further into the darkness and shoved up against the wall. His mouth is covered and he tastes champagne and Marcus, and he drowns in the familiarity of his kiss.

“You were leaving,” Marcus growls. He pulls back, hands bracketing Percy against the wall, body pressed into him. It takes everything Percy has not to push back against him, rub his instant erection against Marcus’s bulge.

Instead he schools his features into a pinched, polite smile. “You were occupied, Flint, and of course, you do have a wife to dote on now.”

“Do you think that changes anything?” Marcus laughs dryly. “You’ve had a wife for years, Percy. The only difference is, mine’s aware that I’m fucking bent as a corkscrew, and yours has no fucking idea.”

That stops Percy, breath caught in his chest, tight and hard. “She’s pregnant,” he says carefully.

“S’mine,” Marcus acknowledges. “Had to make sure I could even do it. S’not bad, but s’not good, either.”

Percy feels a smile quirk the corner of his lip. “And what exactly is it like, then?”

“Wet, but without a tongue.” Marcus makes a face. “S’like the strangest sodding blow job I’ve ever had, and I just keep thinking that it’s you on your knees, which doesn’t really work, considering. S’not ideal, but it’ll work. We’ll have sprogs and it’ll be done. She’s a good friend, anyroad.” 

He straightens up, his stance less threatening, more intimate and less like he’s trying to trap Percy in place. Marcus curls one finger, lets it slide down Percy’s neck. “Was thinking maybe I ought to meet Audrey. You can meet Violet. Kids might end up being friends.”

“That would be awkward.”

“Convenient is the word you’re looking for.” Marcus pulls his hand back, quickly works the fastenings of his formal robes. “Does Audrey have any idea how much you love my fucking cock?”

Percy can’t help but watch, his eyes adjusted to the dim light amongst the cloaks. He can just barely see the outline of Marcus’s hard prick, curving slightly to one side. “No,” Percy says quietly. “And she won’t. Does Violet know that it’s my mouth in particular that you need to get you off?”

“No,” Marcus says gruffly. “And she won’t.” His hand falls to the top of Percy’s head, pushing down with gentle pressure. 

Percy could refuse. He should refuse. But he is helpless where Marcus Flint is concerned, unwilling to admit the depths of his feelings and yet, unable to deny any request. Or order.

He takes the edges of the open robes and pushes them wide as he goes to his knees. He can smell the rising musk of Marcus’s cock, free inside the robes in traditional wizarding fashion. It makes it easier for Percy, lets him lean in and quietly nuzzle along his length, tongue darting out to lap at the base.

Marcus is already hard, and Percy takes him in quickly, swallowing him all the way and bobbing his head twice, just to get him soaked. By the time he lets him slip free, Marcus has his hand in Percy’s wiry curls, fingers loose, just holding himself steady rather than trying to direct.

After all this time, Percy can tell the difference, and to be honest, either is fine with him.

But it seems that tonight Marcus intends to let him choose the speed, intends to let Percy be in charge. And Percy fully intends to take advantage of that.

He strokes Marcus’s cock, hand sliding along the wet length as he leans in to capture one bollock with his mouth. He sucks it in, soaks that as well, rolling it around in his mouth until Marcus groans, and Percy finally lets it slip free. He moves on to the other, suckling at it as he slowly wanks him, hand rolling over the head, thumb pressing against the slit whenever he reaches the tip.

“Fuck, Percy.” Marcus’s hips sway, fingers tightening in Percy’s hair, and Percy groans in response. He lifts Marcus’s prick, takes advantage of the way his balls are drawing up tight to lick behind them, teasing at the perineum before he swallows him down again.

No one else can do this for Marcus, not like Percy does. “Mine,” he whispers around his cock, as if he has some right to lay claim to it. “ _Mine_.”

“Fuck, your mouth is sodding brilliant.” Marcus lets one hand cup his chin, the other gripping his hair tight enough to sting. “Undo your robes. Get your cock out but don’t touch it. Just want to fucking see how hard you are.” He stares down, and Percy obliges, opening his robes and casting a faint _Lumos_ before setting his wand by his hip, so Marcus will be able to see.

Percy’s prick is hard and aching, bouncing slightly as he moves. He lets it be, focuses intently on Marcus instead. His hands grip Marcus’s ass, spreading the cheeks, one finger stroking slick spit down the crack. Marcus growls, drags Percy’s head closer, nearly choking him, and he opens his throat to allow him in. Percy takes him like that, deep in his throat, eyes wide as he presses the tip of one finger into his ass, twisting it slightly until Marcus shudders, thighs tight.

Marcus tries to hold back, tries to delay the orgasm; Percy can feel the way he fights it, body tense with the oncoming explosion. Percy just barely manages to pull back before Marcus comes so that it doesn’t choke him, but as always, he swallows every drop. 

Percy leans back when Marcus done, his own prick jutting out, slightly reddened with a drip forming at the tip. He lets his hands fall by his side, still following orders even in the aftermath, no matter how much he just wants to be done. He looks up at Marcus, watches as Marcus slowly sinks to his knees, cradles Percy’s head in his hands.

The kiss is slow, soft, and gentle. Marcus teases at his mouth in ways that make Percy’s heart melt. It’s rare that they have moments like this, where the world slows down around them and words that have no place in this risk slipping free. Percy nips at Marcus’s lips, bites his own tongue to keep them at bay, and tries not to whine for attention.

“Stand up.” Marcus’s fingers slide along Percy’s throat, caressing it gently, like he could massage away the ache from Percy having been so freshly fucked. When Percy hesitates, Marcus grips his robes, tugs to push him to standing. “I said, stand up. Lean against the wall, yeah, just like that.”

Percy lets Marcus arrange him bodily, not certain where this is going. As much as he’d love to fuck Marcus’s perfect ass, this is neither the time nor place for it as they are lacking in lube, not to mention uncomfortably positioned. “What are you planning?”

“This.” Marcus slides back down, sinks to his knees with his robes still splayed. Marcus is perfectly displayed, his cock lying quiescent and soft, but Percy loses all interest in watching him as soon as Marcus touches Percy’s rigid cock. Marcus strokes it just once, then captures the head in his mouth.

“Fuck.” Percy can’t help the oath, louder than he intends, and he scrambles to keep his footing, back pressed against the wall to brace himself. He digs his heels in, lets his hands fall on Marcus’s head, and just rests there as Marcus slowly takes him in.

He can see the way Marcus’s mouth stretches wide around his girth, the way he strains to hold him so carefully. “Why?” Percy whispers, because they have a routine. He sucks Marcus off, because he loves the feeling of a good prick in his mouth, and he loves Marcus’s prick in particular. Then Marcus wanks him quickly or Percy fucks Marcus hard and fast, reveling in the tight feeling of him clenching around him.

This… this has never been a part of whatever they are.

“I want to.” Marcus lets go long enough to whisper the words, then takes him back in. He balances carefully on his knees, hands on Percy’s thighs. He bobs his head, careful and slow like he’s afraid he might break, and Percy wants to thrust in, to take advantage of this. 

“So good,” Percy murmurs, combing his fingers through Marcus’s hair. “You feel so good.” He knows then what he wants, how he wants the deal to be between them with the introduction of another wife to keep them apart. “My orgasms are yours,” he murmurs, because he is rarely with Audrey any more; Marcus is his lover. “And you…. No one puts their mouth on your prick but me. _No one_.”

He cants his hips just so, seeking more warmth from Marcus’s mouth, groaning when Marcus pulls back and pushes down, his tongue adding pressure. Marcus looks up, nods slowly without releasing Percy’s prick. “No one,” he agrees, the words muffled, and Percy twitches and thrusts deep.

He comes in Marcus’s mouth while Marcus swallows inelegantly, a streak of white dripping over his chin to be wiped clean with a thumb and swallowed after the fact. 

There are words again, hovering at the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. But Percy can’t say them, can’t let them fall between them lest everything change. Instead he reaches for Marcus, pulls him and lets Marcus kiss him into the wall, tasting each other on their tongues.

Percy reaches between them, deftly does the buttons on Marcus’s robes, then his own.

“Come meet my wife,” Marcus says gruffly. “We can talk. Arrange a dinner or some shite.” He hesitates, drawing breath and letting it go slowly. “M’not ready for you to leave yet.”

Percy’s fingers brush against Marcus’s hand, tangling briefly before letting go. “I can be polite,” he says. “And perhaps our wives will have something in common. Audrey would enjoy if we had another couple to spend time with—Oliver is perpetually single after all. And your Violet will want others around to help as she grows large with child, I am certain.”

“M’sure she will.” Marcus pushes the cloaks wide, and sound spills back in from the party like an invasion of reality upon their moment. Percy collects his wand and extinguishes the light, then ducks past Marcus’s hand. He smoothes down his robes and checks Marcus for any disrepair.

“Violet is a lucky woman,” Percy murmurs, and Marcus smirks. The expression falls away slowly as Marcus stares at him, considering.

“Thank you,” Marcus says, voice rough, and Percy nods.

He knows he should deny this, should resist making friends with Marcus’s new family, and yet, he cannot resist. “Any time you need me, I will be here,” he says quietly, and Marcus nods, understanding the words unsaid.

He follows Marcus through the room to meet Violet, and shakes her hand, going into the hug that she offers. “It was a beautiful wedding,” he murmurs, and he means it. Everything is different now, after all, and yet, as Marcus stands beside him, solid and warm, he knows that everything is exactly the same as it ever was, and as it always will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


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